Lion Head Mesa Reteh-qabet

AW to kids, looking for 1-1 with each of my babies

The gods caused the sky to bring forth a rainstorm. It was dark in the west and the ether rolled in deep gray clouds without end. Rain fell in ruthless torrents upon the mesa. Thunder struck the earth.

His majesty came down to stand beneath the red arched entryway, a small council in attendance.

“See that the shrines are not deluged,” a throaty order as he beheld the storm.

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rain was not something to which the boy was accustomed. and so he strode out into it, sending the assemblage bowing out of his way as he strutted to his father's side.

khaemwaset did not look upon the divine face of the semer-wati, instead serenely engaging the downpour as if he had been born to measure its fall.

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He glimpsed the small sleek shadow of his son. Khaemwaset rustled like the tempest’s own living beast, inherent in his dark dynasty’s riverblood.

“Gods storm their discontent,” the rupture of Rashepses' voice rose above the droning. “But an early rain is their blessing. These acts surpass even the power of the Living Gods.”

“Look, Kem.” Semer-wati motions for the electric burst of white in the sky, “it is called lightening. His brother, thunder, always follows,” and Rashepses took a wide step over his cub, body acting as shelter while they awaited the monstrous answer.

the god who was his father spoke to khaemwaset as if already there were armies camped below akashingo. beneath this subtle praise the boy straightened, becoming haughtier.

lightning forked! he flinched, ears holding to rashepses' voice as he forced himself into a recovery.

"lightning. thunner." his voice strove to be so elegant!

The sky was breaking and the fury of Re'ammin the Thunderer spanned his power across the steel clouds. The world erupted with a deafening clap, sending frenzied voices into screams behind them. The king maintained his brace, legs wide and watching his son’s face with a new pride as the boy recovered his shock and turned fiercely into the squall.

“See how the brothers are powerful together!” his father roared, “with sisters in the wind and rain, together all four create a storm to endow or ravage the land at their will!”

Rashepses raised his head, adding his own cry to the flogging winds.

though khaemwaset did not know all his father spoke, he heard its power and tasted the storm upon his own mouth. 

brothers were powerful. sisters stood together. 

beneath rashepses' chest, khaemwaset mirrored his father's stance and opened his own mouth with an eeriness carried off by those winds.

Chilling, the song of father and son, and woven together as the gilded thread of life Semer-wati heard it;

The voice of a pharaoh.

On a howl lifted higher than the torrential rainfall could ground. Conceived by heaven and painted in the hues of a strong line.

Rashepses laughed and threw a nose beyond his shoulder. “Mortals fear the storm that ravages their granaries. It is not enough to be king. You must also nourish your people.” The man brought his slick snout to the ear of his son. “Tomorrow you will come with your mother and I to court. Together we shall confront the state of affairs and heal the land.”

“That is what Pharaoh does, Kem.”

that is what pharaoh does, kem.

rain poured down; he stared up at rashepses with a mingling of worship and understanding coming to life in his eloquent gaze. "i will stand beside you, father."

nourish your people. his people. their own. in the eye of the storm, khaemwaset looked upward, glimpsing some stirring darkness at the core which in turn reminded him of the great things he would do in akashingo's name.

in the name of his mother.

in the name of his father.